Remembrance
by Gerald Tarrant and Quicksilver
Summary: A sidestory to Sainan no Kekka, should be read after act 2, scene 2. Atsuki confronts Heero, trying to see why he reacted so badly to the news of the revelation of the Gundam pilots' age.


Sainan no Kekka: Sin

_Gundam Wing is property of Sotsu Agency, Bandai Studios, and TV Asahi. Sainan no Kekka and all original characters and plot copyright 2000 by Quicksilver and Gerald Tarrant. Please ask permission before reposting._

  
**SHIN KIDOU SENKI GUNDAM WING**

SAINAN NO KEKKA  
Remembrance: Heero

_"You say anything  
Just tell me all your sweet lies...  
You can dry my every tear."  
--X Japan, Say Anything_

  
The room was shadowy, lit with the harsh white light of a single bulb hung from the ceiling. The rusty iron-frame bed in the corner was lumpy, the covers were tattered and threadbare, and the single chair in the middle of the room was missing most of its back. But he didn't protest when she closed the door behind her and gestured to him to sit. He was used to it. Besides, sitting on the damp, rat dropping covered floor did not particularly appeal to him.

"All right," Atsuki said. "What's going on?"

Wing looked at her. Even in the dim light she was beautiful, a goddess of the underworld. She was dressed even more scantily tonight than he had remembered her in the past, with a strapless lacy black undergarment type-top revealing most of her breasts, and a tight skirt that revealed in another way everything it hid in one. But that wasn't why he was attracted to her.

Atsuki was not Japanese. He thought he understand the reason why she had taken a Japanese name; for living on a colony populated mostly by colonists of Japanese blood, it was simply easier. Yet one look at her and anyone could tell she was far from Asian descent. Her features were exotic, more Middle-Eastern than anything, and the way she carried herself reminded him of royalty. She wore hardly any makeup, for a profession that almost required it to be caked on heavily. She didn't need to. She was naturally beautiful, and she needed no art of paint to show otherwise. Though she professed that she wore none for other, more practical reasons. He had asked about it one night, and she had shrugged.

_I would if I had the time and money. But I can't even afford it._

Her employers worked her hard, and by the time he came to see her in the early hours of the morning, she would be exhausted. She was employed by one of the groups in the Breaks with a more dubious reputation, but she'd also told him that they were the only ones who had even given her a chance of being hired. Apparently, she wasn't "high class" enough for the others.

That was a lie. How high class did a prostitute have to be anyway? They did what the customer wanted and were paid. They were simply another form of workhorse.

Atsuki didn't deserve that.

He made it a point to visit her every night that he had the chance. He wasn't sure why. It wasn't like he enjoyed the sex; in fact, most nights he did not even touch her, preferring to sit and listen to her stories. Sometimes she would simply ramble on, her eyes dark and inscrutable. Other times she would cry. 

She never made it clear what she was crying about, but he was sure that the scars on her heart were as thick as the ones on his.

_At least_, he told her one night, _you can remember what you weep for. I can't even remember._

Her warm hand had come up to circle his wrist.

_I know._

He didn't remember where he had met her. It was in some crowded bar or other, while he and Darkflight were both pumped full of some drug, looking for a cheap way to release tension and forget. But when he had saw her, it was like something had sparked in his memory, the golden-haired girl with the blue eyes who had looked at him with eyes that stared directly into his soul. She'd reminded him of someone…someone he couldn't remember.

Afterwards he'd lain silently in the dark, his arms around her, smelling the mildewed bedsheets and the sweat coming from both their bodies and asked her _why?_

_Because you remind me of…somebody._

Darkflight didn't understand. _She's just another whore_, he said. _Don't you get tired of her? There are plenty better ones on the street for you to play with._

Have you ever met someone who reminded you of someone else, but you couldn't remember who?

Darkflight had his own secrets, but they weren't the same. Not the same as his and hers. Not at all.

_You remind me of purity,_ he had told her one night. _And justice, and truth. And innocence._

I'm sorry.

Don't be sorry. You're…you're the only thing I have. Because I can't remember anymore.

She had nodded and held him tightly that night, sitting on the bed and staring out the window at the stars.

Wasn't it that he didn't want to remember? Or had the memories just slipped from him when he hadn't been holding onto them? He wasn't sure.

"Wing?"

"What."

A soft hand cupping his chin. "Something happened out there tonight, Wing. I haven't ever seen you so…"

"Out of control?" he almost snarled, jerking his chin away.

He could feel the hurt coming from her but didn't move to make it better, simply sat there not looking at her, smelling the smoke and sweet drug odor from his own body, his vision still blurry from the amount of heroin intake he had had earlier combined with the alcohol. He was coming down, and his body wasn't liking it at all.

"No," Atsuki said, turning away. "Sad."

"Sad?"

She nodded, and he snorted. "Watch yourself, woman."

"It's true."

Wing didn't answer, standing up and walking unsteadily to the far wall. The moon was partially obscured by clouds. He wondered if Darkflight had gone home, or if he had instead gone off with the dark-haired woman he had seen hovering by his partner's shoulder earlier. It didn't really matter anyway.

He put a hand to his forehead, feeling the scar throb. "For some reason…I feel sick."

Slim arms were around him in a moment and he let her support him as he sagged against the wall and threw up. The fluid was vile smelling and he mentally vowed he would never again drink so much in one night. He renewed that vow every time he threw up, and it never worked, but that never stopped him from trying.

"You drank too much again," Atsuki said softly. Her arms disappeared for a second and then returned. He felt something soft wiping his mouth. "I told you not to do that."

"I tell myself that," he returned. "Does it matter?"

"Not really," she said. The rag went away and he could smell the scent of her hair. "Can you stand up?"

Wing nodded and she let him support himself on legs that still were less than steady. The room spun slowly.

"How was work tonight?" he asked, after a moment.

She shrugged. "As usual. I made some extra money. Maybe I can keep it this time." Looking at him. "Found any work?"

"Darkflight got two contracts today, but I didn't feel like going out."

"Ah."

The room was still spinning and he didn't feel like standing up anymore. He would probably throw up again if he did. The floor was dirty and wet, but he didn't care, sliding slowly down until he was sitting, back leaning against the rough wall. After a moment she moved to sit down beside him.

"You'll get your dress dirty."

"It's dirty anyway," she said, a faint smile curling the corners of her mouth. There was no mirth. "I need to wash off the blood. I don't think a little dirt will hurt it."

He closed his eyes. "Atsuki."

"Do you ever wonder why we do it?"

Wing laughed harshly. "I gave up wondering. A long time ago."

"So did I. Funny," she murmured, as her fingers wrapped around his. "Stupid as it sounds, I can't really imagine doing anything else."

He simply sat, letting her warmth surround him. The room was quiet and he supposed the drunks next door and upstairs had finally passed out.

"I haven't paid rent for this place in more than a month," she murmured, full breasts pressing up against him. There was nothing sexual in the act, simply an act of touching, of reassurance that he was real, that she was real in a world where nothing was certain. "I wonder when they'll kick me out?"

"You saw the article in the paper, didn't you?"

She drew away from him then, large eyes curious. "Yes. You were upset."

"Damn right," he muttered, pushing back dirty bangs from his forehead. He hadn't washed his hair since…he couldn't remember. A long time.

"Why?"

He laughed again. "If I knew, I'd tell you. Believe me."

"Did Darkflight-"

"He ran after me. I'd had a couple joints by then, and some drinks…nothing too serious. I don't know why-"

"Even when you're doped up you don't act like that," Atsuki said. "You know that."

"Yes."

"What did the article say exactly?"

"The Gundam pilots…you remember the Gundam pilots, right?"

"Of course," Atsuki said, her voice becoming distant. "They were my heroes. So daring and brave, knights in shining armor…I never actually saw one," she said, when Wing frowned at her. "But that was what they were called, here in the Breaks by some of the girls. The Knights." She twisted one of the myriad rings on her fingers, the false gemstone shining dully in the garish light. "They would come rescue us, sweep us off our feet and take us away to their kingdom…" She laughed. "Idle dreams."

"Atsuki-"

"We'd see pictures of them on the news, when we could get a connection. There were never very many pictures either, because they were so mysterious…but what we saw was amazing and frightening at the same time. Space warriors…"

"Have you ever been in space?" he wondered.

She didn't answer.

"They said they were murderers," Wing managed. "The paper. Called them genetically engineered, brainwashed teenagers…children with toys." His voice trembled.

"Did you know them?"

"Me? I…I don't think so…" He rested his head on his knees. "I can't fucking remember…anything. Anything!"

He felt her arms come around him again, holding him. "It's all right," she murmured, stroking his hair. "You don't need to remember."

"When I saw that headline it was like…it was like suicide. I don't know. Like by reading it with my own eyes I had physically reached out and stabbed myself in the heart."

"It's all right," her voice soothed. He trembled.

"They weren't murderers. I know that much. Atsuki…tell me they weren't murderers."

He felt her smile against his hair. "If they were murderers, would I have loved them?"

"I'm a murderer."

"Whoever said I loved you?" she murmured softly, and he stared fiercely into the dark shadows beyond.

"When I'm with you…you make me human. Outside the death and the blood…you keep me human."

"I'm glad," she returned, her warm breasts pressing against him. "My assassin." So warm. So real. The only reality…He felt himself getting hard, reaching up to stroke her.

"I'm nobody. You're nobody. We're all nothing. What's the point?"

Her eyes were dark and sad and beautiful. "So we make the most of what we have. As long as I have you…"

His lips found hers in a desperate, painful kiss, cutting off the rest of her words.

"Help me forget," he whispered. "Help me…" 

[Back to Act 1, Part 2.2][1] | [Back to Sainan no Kekka][2]

   [1]: act2-1.html#2.2
   [2]: /gundam/sainan/



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